


Bait the Line

by redredribbons



Category: Transformers (Bay Movies)
Genre: Consent Issues, M/M, Minor Violence, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-11
Updated: 2014-07-11
Packaged: 2018-02-08 09:13:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1935210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redredribbons/pseuds/redredribbons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime before Age of Extinction. Lockdown gets creative in his hunt for Optimus Prime-- and decides to set a trap for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bait the Line

Warm night air whistled through Bumblebee’s front grill, and he couldn’t hold in a burst of joyful laughter. It had been too long since he’d last stretched his axles, felt the heat and power of his engine humming through his frame. Even though the air on Earth was gritty and filled with miniscule, squishy little organisms that had an unpleasant habit of splatting on his windshield, there was still no substitute for the feeling of it rushing past his plating as he roared down an empty desert highway. Despite the thrill of high speed and the open road, he felt a twinge of guilt at violating Optimus’s final order to stay hidden at all costs. Movement of any kind was dangerous; humans tended to get suspicious when they pulled up next to a vehicle and noticed it had no driver. But being cooped up in an dilapidated, abandoned garage for Primus knew how long had started to take its toll. Besides, there was no one else on the road this time of night anyway. Not on this desolate two-lane stretch through nowhere. 

 

Or so he thought. His audio sensors picked up the distant hum of another engine-- a powerful one, from the sound of it. _Slag_. Wasn’t that just his luck. Grateful for the darker coloration on his retro Camaro alt mode, Bumblebee hit the brakes, pulled over, and switched off his lights. There was no point in drawing attention to himself by attempting to outrun or avoid the approaching car; one glance into his human-less driver seat was all it would take. Better to blend in and let the human driver pass him by. Just another broken down clunker on the side of the road. He even popped his hood for effect. 

 

As the sound grew closer, however, Bumblebee’s internal sensors picked up something bizarre. There was no human life form signature anywhere near his current location-- not for many miles. He scanned for spark signatures instead, and discovered that the approaching vehicle was _Cybertronian_. Uncertainty prickled across Bumblebee’s circuitry. If there was another Autobot in the area, why had they not identified themselves earlier? Cautiously, Bumblebee hailed the stranger on an Autobot frequency. 

 

No response. That wasn’t reassuring. He tried once more, on an additional frequency. Still nothing.

 

All Decepticons on Earth were supposedly wiped out during the battle of Chicago. Had one survived? Bumblebee was increasingly realizing that he didn’t want to stick around and find out. If he’d picked up this newcomer’s spark signature, the other mech would’ve surely detected his by now as well. The game was up. 

 

High beams danced eerily on the wall of the canyon Bumblebee had just passed through. The unfamiliar engine was much closer now. Bumblebee slammed his hood shut, accelerated hard, and downshifted. Rubber screeched and smoke poured from his rear wheel wells as his tires clawed the pavement. His chassis leapt forward as he floored it, heedless of any human-imposed speed restrictions. 

 

The other mech was still gaining on him. Bumblebee could hear the engine-- was that 12 cylinders?-- snarling behind him, ever closer. He’d never seen an alt mode like that before. Sleek, curvy, aerodynamic... intimidating. Looks weren’t everything, though. Bumblebee had higher ground clearance than his pursuer, not to mention a decent set of shock absorbers. If speed alone wasn’t enough to shake the other mech, it was time to get creative. 

 

Ahead, the road sloped up a hill along a canyon wall. A flimsy guardrail was all that separated it from a steep drop to the flatter terrain below. There was precious little room to maneuver. Instead of potentially cornering himself, Bumblebee yanked the wheel sharply to the left, veering across the other lane, through the shoulder, and onto the desert soil. It was incredibly uncomfortable to drive on such rough, uneven surfaces-- a constant barrage of rocks kicked up and stung his undercarriage-- but his pursuer would fare even worse, being so close to the ground. 

 

The risk appeared to have paid off. The strange mech went cruising right past him, still on the road, and up the hill. Bumblebee eased off the accelerator to give his shocks and tires a rest. He cycled long, slow ventilations of air in an effort to calm his frenetically whirling spark. Never before had the safe confines of his dumpy garage felt so appealing. 

 

______________________

 

Parked part way up hill with his lights off, Lockdown watched the little Autobot slow down, then stop. The bounty hunter laughed softly to himself; _this_ was who the last Knight had chosen as a lieutenant? An amateurish youngling? Who was clearly either overconfident or made foolish by his fear-- the fact that he hadn’t raced off again yet indicated that the Autobot was too shaken to even check his sensors properly. _Poor, helpless little thing..._

 

Now was his chance to strike. 

 

Lockdown floored it. There was a sharp curve ahead but he kept his wheels pointed forward. Bracing for impact, Lockdown plowed through the guardrail, heedless of the damage to his headlights. He transformed in mid air, body unfurling in a graceful pounce. 

 

At the sound of that thunderous crash from above, Bumblebee was already peeling off again in a cloud of a dust. Lockdown transformed his right hand and stretched forward. _So close, so close..._

 

A scream of agony rang out as Lockdown’s hook skewered Bumblebee’s rear bumper. The bounty hunter hit the ground hard. Pebbles clattered off of his visor, kicked up by Bumblebee’s tires as the Autobot made a desperate bid for escape. Shrill, erratic engine revs, then another pained cry as Bumblebee’s rear bumper started to separate from his frame. Energon dripped into the dirt. 

 

Lockdown growled in irritation; it wouldn’t do to have Bumblebee too badly injured this early on. Bracing himself with his other hand, he pulled upward on the loose bumper, just enough to lift Bumblebee’s drive wheels off the ground. 

 

“Calm down, Bumblebee,” Lockdown crooned, “I’m not going to hurt you. Well.” He wiggled his hook, still lodged through the Autobot’s bumper. “Not anymore.”

 

“ _Let me go!”_ Bumblebee hissed and threw himself violently into transformation, hoping to catch and snap the offending hook. Lockdown ripped it free just in time.

 

Bumblebee’s freedom was short-lived as Lockdown lunged forward, bearing down on his smaller quarry. He planted a knee in Bumblebee’s lower back and grabbed him by the cabling in the back of his neck.

 

“I said _calm down_ ,” Lockdown repeated, pressing his full weight into Bumblebee. This Autobot was a plucky one, to be sure. Lockdown liked them best that way; it always made for a dull chase when a bounty simply gave up and surrendered quietly to their fate. As enjoyable as it was feeling the little thing squirm and thrash under him, he had a job to do. There would be plenty of time for fun later, in the secure confines of his ship. 

 

Bumblebee attempted to rear back and aim an elbow at his assailant, but the motion was stopped by metal clunking against the base of his cranial plating. Lockdown’s hand was still on him rough and tight, holding him down, so what on Cybertron...? Cautiously, Bumblebee turned his head and was horrified to see a massive rifle barrel protruding where the other mech’s face should have been. He’d never seen a transformation like that before. It was abnormal, unnatural.

 

“Like the modifications?” Lockdown purred, “They’re one of a kind.”

 

“Decepticon filth!” Bumblebee spat. He snapped his foot up and felt his heel connect with Lockdown’s back. The bounty hunter didn’t even flinch.

 

“Such a pity to see how many Cybertronians have become so... simple minded. Everything must either be ‘Autobot’ or ‘Decepticon’. As if those designations have any significance,” Lockdown sneered, “I’m no _Decepticon_.”

 

“Then what do you _want_ from me?” Bumblebee snapped, “Fragging let me go! If you’re not a Decepticon I... We don’t need to fight like this!”

 

“I need you to help me find someone. That’s all,” Lockdown said soothingly. Bumblebee shivered as that jagged hook caressed his cheek.

 

“ _What?_ I don’t know where anyone else is!” Bumblebee said.It was the truth; Optimus had forbidden the Autobots from disclosing their locations to one another.

 

“Shh, shh. No need to get so upset,” Lockdown said. His harsh grip on Bumblebee’s neck melted to a firm rub, fingers toying through cables. “I wouldn’t expect someone like you to know anything of real importance. And I don’t need you to.”

 

Bumblebee bristled at the condescension, twisting his head in an attempt to dislodge Lockdown’s unwelcome touches. “Frag off and go find someone who _would_ know!”

 

The hook’s caress turned to a scrape against his cheek, scoring the plating just hard enough to draw a few droplets of energon. Lockdown scolded, “Ah, ah, don’t be troublesome, little Bee. What you know or don’t know is irrelevant. All that matters is that I have _you_ in my possession.”

 

Warm air vented, fogging the glass on one of Bumblebee’s doors. Apparently the mech did have a normal face buried under that mass of sniper scopes.

 

“ _He_ will come for you,” Lockdown whispered, lips brushing along the edge of a door. A chill suffused Bumblebee’s spark. 

 

“And here we are. Finally. Primus-damned things fly so slow,” Lockdown said distractedly. Bumblebee could feel him sit back and shift around. Something else had caught his attention: a small aerial drone which, at some unheard command from Lockdown, descended to hover directly in front of Bumblebee’s face.

 

“Hope you’re ready for your close-up, little Bee,” Lockdown chuckled. He tongued the glass on Bumblebee’s doors, smudging it with oral fluid. The doors twitched violently then flattened against his back. Bumblebee realized, with horror, that there was a lens attached to the front of the drone. A camera. He pressed his face into the dirt. It was bad enough to be captured and humiliated, but to know there was a very real possibility of others seeing...

 

Lockdown slid his hook around the front of Bumblebee’s throat and forced his head back up. Bumblebee hated, _hated,_ being touched there. His fists balled and he lashed out wildly, blindly. Even if he couldn’t escape right now, couldn’t hurt Lockdown, he’d be damned if he was going to lie still and take this without a fight. 

 

Lockdown made no attempt to subdue the struggling Autobot, using only enough force to keep him captive. He laughed at the futility of his prey’s attacks and said, “Now Bumblebee, that’s not very dignified, is it? Don’t you want to put your best face forward for _Optimus Prime?_ ”

 

The hovering camera drone beeped. A small red light next to the lens blinked on. 

 

Bumblebee froze. For a moment his panic and fear dropped away like a shroud and he understood. Crystal clear.

 

“Optimus _don’t!_ ” he shouted at the camera, “ _Don’t_ come for me! I don’t care what you see! It’s--”

 

Another beep. The red light blinked off again.

 

“It’s a trap...” Bumblebee slumped onto the hard ground, despondent.

 

Lockdown grinned widely. The brief video clip was already being transmitted across every known Cybertronian frequency. There was no way Optimus could miss it. 

 

“That was a bit brief, but it’ll suffice,” Lockdown said. He gently kissed and rubbed Bumblebee’s doors in a parody of comfort. “No matter. My ship is on its way here. And we’ll have all the time in the world...”

 

Bumblebee let out a dry, choked sob. The hand on the back of his neck began to wander down his frame, tracing lazily across the edges of armor plates, until it arrived at his hip, where it squeezed. 

 

“... and this sweet little frame of yours will look lovely from _every_ angle.”

 


End file.
